


significance

by cecropia



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Basically me listing what I love about their relationship in Evan’s POV, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Soft Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), rating is marked up because there are like mild descriptions of sexy time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia
Summary: It’s the little things, really.





	significance

**Author's Note:**

> I’m posting this from my phone bc vacation and let me just say: fuck ao3 on mobile  
> Anyway here’s a lil fluffy ficlet to make up for the angst in the last one!!!!!!!! Lemme know what u think!  
> Love u guys  
> Enjoy <3
> 
> come talk to me! c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a on tumblr :-)  
> 

It’s the little things, really. 

It’s the way Connor interlocks their hands under the table or when they’re walking or sitting on the couch, the touch so _so_ gentle, softly running his thumb over Evan’s knuckles because he can just tell when Evan’s too anxious to function. The way he gives Evan’s hand a light squeeze as an inside joke or a source of comfort or just to let Evan know he’s there and he’s not going anywhere, or how sometimes Evan needs to be distracted during a panic attack so Connor spells out the alphabet or writes love letters on Evan’s palm. Or how he links their pinkies when they’re navigating through a crowd because they don’t want to lose each other like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like he doesn’t even have to think about it, like it’s second nature to him. 

It’s the way they can have entire conversations through touch alone, Connor’s words practically thrumming through his veins with just a brush of his fingers against Evan’s. When Evan’s anxious he’ll grip onto Connor’s last two fingers with his own and Connor will hold on, placing his other hand on top, a touch that says _I know, you’re alright_ , _I’m here_ . And Connor tells Evan _I love you_ with a poke in the cheek, a light punch to the arm, the nudge of their knees and their forearms just barely touching, a gentle reminder that the other is, and always will be, right there. 

It’s the way Connor bumps their shoulders together when he’s making a joke but he wants to make sure Evan knows that’s all it is, just a joke, because he knows that sometimes Evan takes things to heart too quickly. Or the way Connor grabs onto Evan’s forearm when he can’t control his laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching up his nose, cheeks tinted rosy because he’s embarrassed that he can’t stop. And how he “casually” scoots closer when they’re watching movies on the couch with Jared so they’re always touching, arms and legs and hands. Sometimes he’ll even throw both of his long, long legs over Evan’s lap and if Jared even thinks about making a comment he shuts his mouth immediately at the sight of Connor’s glare. And how Connor always _always_ finds a way to fall asleep against him, arm looped around Evan’s and cheek resting on his shoulder, breathing warm against his chest. 

And it’s how he always manages to convince Evan to carry him upstairs afterward, mumbling sleepy nonsense into the crook of his neck.

It’s how he makes Evan feel desired, wanted; hands skimming over Evan’s ribs and his waist and his stomach and his hips, touching and feeling and grabbing like he can’t get enough. Connor’s fingers laced with his as they move together, whispering each other’s names like a mantra and babbling back and forth about how much they love each other; Connor’s hands tangled in his hair and a whimper in the back of his throat, mumbled confirmations and praise. It’s how Connor always clings to him afterward in any way possible; cheek pressed to Evan’s or to his chest or his neck, pressing a kiss to the top of Evan’s head, interlocking fingers or linked pinkies or tangled legs and arms. 

And it’s how Connor’s uninterested persona is put on pause only when he’s talking to Evan. When Evan talks it’s all sparkling eyes and raised eyebrows, nods and sounds of acknowledgement. He’s actually interested in what Evan’s got to say, soaking up every word and asking questions and speaking up for him when he gets spoken over, as he so often does. And it’s that glint Connor gets in his eye and the furrow of his brow when someone rudely shoulders past Evan in the hallway, the roll of his eyes when they don’t even notice. It’s the fact that Evan knows he has someone who actually cares, who’s too honest to lie and fiercely loyal to the people he loves. 

And it’s the fact that Connor literally becomes a different person around Heidi Hansen, leaning into hugs and making conversation and joking around with her like they’ve known each other all their lives. He smiles and plays along and he laughs at her jokes that aren’t even funny, which is the most unbelievable part. And Connor doesn’t know that Evan knows, but before Connor enters their house he asks if Heidi’s working tonight and gets this little sparkle in his eyes when Evan says she isn’t, in fact, and that she’s right behind the door. It’s like Connor has adopted Heidi as his own mother, making her Mother’s Day cards and trying not to smile when she tears up, trying not to show how much he actually really loves her praise and attention. And her hugs. 

Connor likes his mom. And his mom is an _authority figure_ , someone who Connor would normally have an issue with. But he respects her, and he treats her in the way that Heidi Hansen deserves to be treated. 

It’s the way Connor looks at him. How his eyes always seem to soften from an ice blue to a warm ocean when he rolls his eyes affectionately or listens to Evan talk for hours on end or just when they’re sitting at their favorite coffee place and their eyes meet for a second through the comfortable silence, the smile reaching Connor’s eyes where it usually doesn’t. And Evan gets to leave him and know that he put that smile there, that Evan just sitting there and gently blowing on his hot tea to cool it down is enough to put a smile on Connor’s face. That _Evan’s_ enough to put a smile on his face. 

It’s the little things, those tiny little seemingly insignificant details that throw Evan even further down the rabbit hole that is loving Connor Murphy. And being loved by Connor Murphy, whose love and trust is earned and closely calculated and watched with the eyes of a hawk, whose love is fierce and unconditional, intense and ever enveloping. 

It’s how all Connor needs to do is quirk the side of his mouth into the slightest of smiles, and Evan knows one thing about himself with absolute certainty:

He is significant.


End file.
